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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566892">Oh That's the Signal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory'>Onlymystory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, M/M, even immortal boys need to use their words, handwaving past that banishing booker thing, i want my family together, this is sort of Nile pov, with a touch of omniscient narrarator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:59:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only two things that really piss Nicky off. Someone deliberately, maliciously hurting Joe...and people who fuck up Genoese cooking.<br/>It is possible that Joe, knowing these things, rather likes Nicky's reaction to the latter, and picks a fight on purpose.</p><p>Alternatively: every once in a while, Joe is not so good at using his words.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>601</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oh That's the Signal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay so this was the prompt: "Nicky and Joe gets into a really vicious screaming argument and Andy, Nile and Booker all watch unsure of what to do, because it is the first time they are seeing the two immortal husbands fight?"</p><p>And at first, I was like no, I can’t make them fight, that feels so wrong and doing a silly or fake fight didn’t seem right and then I thought oh, what if the rare times that they fight are because one of them doesn’t know how to use his words and this has become his way of asking. Which became this. Plus if anything’s going to piss Nicky off outside of Joe getting hurt, it has to be someone fucking up Genoese food.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It starts on a perfectly normal spring day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile feels content, at home, in a way that still feels new to her. It’s been just over two years since her first death and it took a while to move forward into this new life. There are still days when she misses her family so much it hurts. Days when she doubles over in pain at the way Dizzy looked at her in those last moments, that sense of betrayal from a woman she loved so dearly. On those days, Booker takes her to a dark, divey bar in whatever city they’re in and gets her as drunk as they can possibly manage with accelerated healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But those days have started to lessen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They brought Booker back in after Nile made some very good arguments and they found Quynh and Andy’s smiles aren’t quite as bitter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So today, today feels like a good day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe’s cooking as usual. Quynh and Nile cook when they have a craving for something specific. Andy is not allowed to cook. Nearly seven thousand years and the only thing she’s allowed to do is dig a pit for a roast. It’s hilarious, even if Nile doesn’t dare laugh where Andy can hear her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe, of course, laughs constantly at Andy when she tries to argue that she could cook if given a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker brings the alcohol to family dinners with a maddening knack for knowing exactly what will complement the food and the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the early months, Nile presumed that Nicky did more of the cooking. Nicky loves food, passionately, addictingly, invitingly. He pretends to despise the term but he’s the quintessential foodie, albeit one who’s charm and ability to speak several languages means he is rather good at finding unique restaurants or street carts or tiny little cafes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as she’s learned from the others, Nicky does not cook. He finds food, little treats and delights to satisfy even the pickiest of palates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, sometimes...Nicolo cooks. Nicolo of Genova cooks the food of his ancestors and rages at everyone, throwing them out of his kitchen as he prepares his chosen feast of the month. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe though, Joe is the one who will open a cabinet or walk through a market or buy the freshest catch from the docks and whip something up like it’s nothing. So Joe cooks and he tells stories while he does and they laugh and drink and Nile knows her heart is finding it’s home.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>So of course, today, with Joe cooking and everything feeling peaceful, the evening takes a terrible turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re just sitting down to the meal. Joe’s made a platter of grilled spring vegetables, crusty bread, and a massive bowl of pasta with homemade pesto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky gives Joe a fond sort of look, the one that is common when Joe cooks Italian food, as he sits down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One minute she’s digging into what is a delicious meal, the next Nicky’s on his feet, cursing and throwing his plate on the ground. “Che cazzo! What sort of blasphemy is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pesto,” answers Joe, his tone dripping with so much attitude it takes Nile by further surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t pesto.” Nicky’s eyes are on fire, he’s so angry. “I taste walnuts. Walnuts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Walnuts are perfectly acceptable,” snaps Joe. “This is a perfectly authentic meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky looks like he might explode. “Authentic? Authentic?! What kind of idiot thinks this is authentic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re calling me an idiot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re stupid enough to use anything but pine nuts. You’d think after a thousand years, you’d have learned that by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat the fucking dinner!” yells Joe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t eat this! My entire family line would rise from their grave to kill me and make it stick,” returns Nicky, equally fuming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do?” whispers Nile to Booker. They have to do something. This kind of fighting isn’t good and it can’t be okay for Joe and Nicky to fight like this. Nile knows she’s only been around for a couple of years at this point but they’ve never had a fight in all that time, never, so obviously this isn’t okay. Nicky and Joe are like Romeo and...well no that’s not right, because they would never be that stupid as to fake die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Quynh does like to make references about how often they would fuck with Shakespeare and one of them actually could have pulled off pretending to be dead although wouldn’t they be more likely to inspire Romeo and Mercutio and now her brain’s spinning in other directions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The point, right, the point is that Joe and Nicky fighting each other turns the world upside down and so they need to fix this. They need to fix this now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea,” whispers Booker in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile blanks. “What do you mean you have no idea?” Her voice isn’t really at a whisper anymore but then again, neither is Joe’s voice. She’s not quite sure what language Joe is speaking at this point but he seems to be fluently cursing Nicky out in whatever language it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen them fight,” hisses Booker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re two hundred years old!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“253,” interrupts Quynh, snickering at the dirty look Booker throws her away. “More wine, Andromache?” She pours without waiting for an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy sips her wine and makes a teasing face at Booker and Nile. “Don’t worry, this happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This has never happened in the nearly 200 years I’ve been with you all,” snaps Booker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks as worried as Nile is, which makes her feel somewhat better about her own reaction. Though no less disturbed by Andy and Quynh’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quynh turns a puzzling look on Andy. “Has it really been that long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy shakes her head. “Noooo.” She thinks for a moment. “They went to Malta in the forties, so it would have been a couple of decades before, 1924 or 25. Oh, of course, you were in Paris getting up to heaven knows what with the Fitzgeralds’ and Hemingway and that crowd, Book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker grins lasciviously. “Now that was a good year,” he says, tossing back the rest of his glass of whiskey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just can’t imagine them fighting,” says Nile. Regardless of what she can see in front of her. It’s not right, not okay to see Joe and Nicky fighting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait for the signal,” says Quynh with a smirk.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Walnuts!” yells Nicky. “Fottute noci! Noci al pesto!?!” He’s been switching back and forth between Italian and English. Thankfully her Italian is getting better so she’s pretty sure he’s back to yelling about Joe using walnuts in the pesto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s next, a food processor instead of by hand? C'è solo un vero modo per il pesto!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do, Nicolo?” presses Joe from his chair, his eyes dark and wild. “Punish me for making the wrong pesto?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy elbows her, hard, and Nile glares at her. “That’s the signal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost,” whispers Quynh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky’s on his feet, looking like he’s ready to throw the entire table upside down. “Pesto?! That is not pesto! That is…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he’s stopping. Turning to look at Joe, really looking at him, Nicky’s gaze turning soft as he does. “Yusuf,” he says softly. “You made pesto.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile’s literally heard this word more times in ten minutes then she has her entire life. The fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nicolo,” begs Joe. “My Nicolo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One second Nicky and Joe are yelling viciously at each other, the next Nile watches, gaping in shock, as Nicky grabs hold of great handfuls of Joe’s hair, tilting his head up. “Mio caro,” he whispers. “It is so easy for you to use words unless it’s to ask for what you need most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses Joe, a little bit punishingly and Joe’s hands scrabble at Nicky’s shirt as he whimpers in desperation. They cling together, Nicky pushing and Joe begging, until the chair is falling backward, both men falling without a care in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well fuck,” says Nile. “I suddenly have the need to be anywhere else right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the signal,” snickers Andy. She gets up now, downing her wine. “Come on, we’ll find a hotel with a late-night bar and get a room for a couple of nights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spoilsport,” mutters Quynh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker is getting up and following, though he, like Quynh, seems to be not above making backward glances at Nicky and Joe. Nile isn’t looking since she heard the distinct sound of fabric ripping and she’s just not ready to cross this line of familiarity. Maybe in another century or so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two nights?” asks Nile. That’s a long time for...whatever this is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy shrugs. “Maybe three. We’ll see. Last time was two. Before that was a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quynh leers. “Our recovery time from la petite mort is also...impressive.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So the rest of my thought process for this was Joe makes this same dish and he makes it wrong each time because he knows this is the only thing that gets Nicky this upset (when he messes up Genoese food) and Joe knows how to make it perfectly, he made sure he could because food is one of Nicky’s love languages but Joe likes to speak every language that Nicky does. But when Nicky gets this upset it’s followed by some really phenomenal sex, the kind where Nicky just fucks Joe into the wall and the bed and well into the night and Joe’s feeling really really needy these days in a way he only gets once in a century or so and it’s like the only time that Joe’s never quite figured out how to use his words so he does this instead and because it doesn’t happen that often, it always takes Nicky a minute to realize what Joe really needs.<br/>Honestly one of my favorite things about this is that the use of pinenuts in pesto is an Arabic influence on a classic Genoese sauce and I just think that’s hilarious. And I’m positive Joe knows this, hence why he uses pesto to speak for him when words won’t do.<br/>I don’t believe Joe/Nicky would ever or have ever invited another to their bed but I also think there’s an openness among the others about the concept of sex, one that means love isn’t restricted to closed doors all the time. Plus in this case, neither of them were all that concerned about what anyone else was doing.<br/>Provided google translate is accurate, Nicky says “the fuck?!” and “Fucking walnuts! Walnuts in the pesto?!?!” and “It is only one true way for the pesto!” and lastly “my darling”.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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